Daughter of Arnor - Servant of Fate

Chapter Thirteen: The Misty Mountains

"I'm older than I look," - Anberenien

30th July/Cerveth T.A 3010, The High Pass, Misty Mountains

Anberenien woke up feeling refreshed after a few hours of sleep, despite the unsteadiness of the cart ride. But the gnawing feeling in her stomach reminded her just how long it had been since she had last eaten. The caravan made steady progress along the pass. Through a small tear in the fabric, Anberenien could see a guard ever vigilantly scanning the mountainous terrain.

From the front of the cart, she could hear the trader singing a travelling song as the incline grew steeper. When the sun began lowering in the sky, the Caravan turned onto a side road leading to a small plateau that could not be seen by the road. Here they came to a halt. Anberenien stretched her cramped legs, picked up her pack and jumped out of the cart. The trader and his wife were busily setting up camp and preparing a stew. They smiled as Anberenien approached and indicated for her to sit on one of the logs by the fire.

"We often stop here. It's an excellent camping spot. Sometimes other traders and travellers stop by too. There are spots like this all across the Misty Mountains," said the trader.

The two guards dismounted but didn't speak as they continued to observe their surroundings. And on closer inspection, Anberenien noticed they were quite roughly dressed, had thick dark hair and beards and had the same bronze complexion as the trader's wife. The trader's voice soon brought Anberenien back to her senses. "Still got that hood up then, eh, Ranger? There's no need. We are all friends here. My folk come from Breeland, you know."

Anberenien was unsure if this was a trick question. As she knew from hearing her Pappa and Aragorn's conversations as a child, that Breelanders were suspicious of Rangers. But neither did she wish to appear suspicious or rude. Slowly she removed her hood, her messy shoulder-length haircut revealed. The trader laughed slightly. "So fresh-faced you are, I've never seen a Ranger so green. Why would they send a young un on such a journey? "

"I'm older than I look," replied Anberenien.

The Trader's wife gave her husband a sceptical glance before turning her attention back to Anberenien. "Yes, I've heard ranger folk are well preserved. But even so, I've never seen one as young as you alone, my lad." As the last of the sun's light cast its orange glow upon the mountains, they continued to question her about the rangers and Anberenien answered as best she could. The trader seemly satisfied, then urged his wife to finish the stew as the entire company was starving.

Anberenien had a call of nature, so made her excuses and went behind a large boulder to relieve herself. When she returned, the trader was lighting his pipe. "Fancy a smoke, young man? I know you Rangers are fond of Pipeweed and it just so happens I have a shipment of Old Toby. Straight from the Shire if you'd like a pinch?"

Anberenien shook her head. "I lost my pipe a while back, but thanks anyway."

The trader frowned with concern. "Is that so, young man? Well, it just so happens I've got a few in stock. Why not take a look? I'd hate for you to miss out on a pinch of Old Toby."

He went to the cart and brought out a small box containing many long clay pipes.

"Take your pick," he said, giving her a broad smile. "My treat."

Anberenien selected a smallish pipe, and the trader gave her a little pipeweed. "You got a flint to light it, right?"

"Aye!" Anberenien drew out two flints from her pouch and used them to create a spark. The familiar scent flowed into her nostrils as she lit the pipe, reminding her of happier times.